


Welcome to...Night Vale?

by Alemantele



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Dimension Travel, M/M, but then again this is night vale, mirror world, this is basically normal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-14
Updated: 2014-07-14
Packaged: 2018-02-08 21:35:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1956945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alemantele/pseuds/Alemantele
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even when the world is crazy, Night Vale is never normal. But this time, maybe abnormal is a little boring. </p><p>When Cecil was a child he often dreamed about being a radio host and being able to broadcast the most interesting news all day to eager listeners. He dreamed of five headed dragons and invisible women and when he grew up his imagination hadn’t quite left him. When Carlos first tells him it is not quite imagination and more like reality, Cecil doesn’t want to believe him. Cecil falls in love every day when Carlos tells him of the world beyond, and slowly, ever so slowly, he begins to dream of it. </p><p>(So what happens when Cecil finally gets to see this strange Night Vale that we all know and love?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Welcome to...Night Vale?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jingushi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jingushi/gifts).



> So me and a friend were talking about some sort of mirrored universe where the things in Night Vale were considered normal but Night Vale itself was completely and utterly mundane. 
> 
> This is the result of that conversation. Enjoy!

It starts on a Wednesday. Or, as Cecil likes to call it, Carlos’s lazy day.

Carlos sits on the ground with his legs sprawled out in front of him. He is leaning on the couch, and not even bothering to move up the extra foot or so to sit on it properly. “Ceeeeeeeeeeeeeeecil,” he whines, “I am _so_ bored. It is so boring here.”

Cecil is sitting on the couch. He bites his lip, pretends that Carlos’s words didn’t sting like they did, and smiles. “Is there anything you want to do?”

The way Carlos moves his shoulders could potentially be called a shrug if you stared long enough. For now, Cecil decides it is more of a _flop._ Carlos flops, and then says no more. Cecil suspects—or perhaps secretly wishes—that if it were anybody else addressing perfect, _beautiful_ Carlos, they would receive even less than half-flopping-shrugs. Carlos’s mouth is open in a wordless groan.

Cecil sighs, bends down to smooth Carlos’s _(perfect)_ hair back from his slack face, and turns to find some lemonade.

Sweat beads on his forehead, and he remembers the haze of desert summers. Cecil has always lived in Night Vale, has always known Night Vale, and he wonders if summer were more interesting elsewhere in the strange world. Certainly in Night Vale it was rather dull. There was only endless heat. Endless heat and the sun beating down on the flat expanses of the desert. Welcome to Night Vale indeed—where the sun never stops shining and absolutely nothing happens.

Evidently it was enough to bore a certain handsome scientist.

Cecil swallows and grabs the lemonade from the fridge. Carlos had asked him once why he didn’t just leave Night Vale. Cecil had been complaining (again) about nothing happening in their dreary little town as they walked through the dog park. (They didn’t have a dog. Cecil just liked the gardens in the dog park.) Carlos had given him a strange look, and asked why he doesn’t leave.

He remembers thinking that Carlos could ask anything— _anything—_ of him. Except for that. Now, as Cecil gulps down the cool lemonade and listens to Carlos’s deep breathing in the room over, he mentally takes the statement back. He would answer Carlos’s questions a thousand times over if it meant Carlos would get up and _do something._

Surely there was _something_ they could do. Anything. Eat at Big Rico’s. Or the Arby’s. Heck, they could even go to the library if Carlos wanted to.

Anything but this.

Cecil sighs, and walks with a second glass of lemonade to the living room. Carlos is still spread out on the ground, perhaps having slid a little further down the couch when Cecil was gone.

“Carlos?” Cecil asks.

“Nyggh?” Carlos responds.

Cecil wonders if even his heartbeat is slowing down in this moment. If it is possible for Carlos’s mind to stop. If the sun can blink out. If the laws of physics themselves can stop working. Carlos lolls his head over to Cecil, his fingers twitching slightly. Cecil takes this as a good thing and sets the glass of lemonade on the ground. Carlos’s fingers twitch again as cool droplets of water condensation make their way down from the rim of the glass.

“Oh Carlos, what has gotten into you today,” Cecil wonders.

He receives another flop.

Cecil decides that if Carlos is going to do absolutely nothing the entire day, he is going to be productive. He goes out to their front lawn and decides the grass needs a trimming. The lawnmower is difficult to start, but Cecil manages it on the third try and soon he is walking around, feeling a pleasant breeze start to pick up, and the day feels wonderful.

Carlos can laze about if he wants to. Cecil would prefer to feel the sun on his skin and the wind ruffling his hair. The day was perfect. _Perfect._

Half an hour later, the grass is mown and Cecil is heading inside to find something so that he can clean the rain gutter. Just as he’s about to walk into the house, however, a sudden darkening appears on the horizon and is rushing towards them. It looks like another sandstorm.

Sandstorms aren’t unusual in the desert. Night Vale sandstorms, however, are very strange. Sandstorms were supposed to wreak havoc in the general way—you know, cause doubles to spontaneously appear and challenge you to a fight—while feeling like butterflies kissing your skin. Or so Carlos always says. Cecil finds the idea quite enchanting.

Sandstorms in Night Vale are harsh and there is just… just _sand_ everywhere. Not even a single doppelganger.

It isn’t very fun.

Carlos had rushed out into the gale the first time he experienced a Night Vale sandstorm, and Cecil still remembers the look of disappointment on his face when he walked into the radio station to report his findings.

Cecil goes inside, disheartened by the coming storm, and bemoans the fact that he would have to clean the rain gutter anyways when the storm was over, but this time to rid it of _sand._

Carlos is still lying on the ground. The lemonade glass is half empty, though, and Cecil is almost satisfied because that means Carlos must have gotten up at some point to drink from it. He thinks. Still, he is a little hurt that Carlos didn’t do it when _Cecil_ was there.

“A sandstorm is coming,” Cecil says.

“Eehhh?” Carlos asks.

“A sandstorm. You know, those big gusty winds coming over the edge of the horizon carrying certain doom in granules of fine sand? I saw one coming after I was done mowing the lawn.”

Carlos still doesn’t respond, and Cecil doesn’t bother hiding the look of disappointment on his face. The sun is going down now, and Carlos still hasn’t done anything all day.

“Fine, be that way,” Cecil huffs. “I didn’t want to do anything today either.” He sits by the window and watches the sand outside swirl in strange patterns.

Funny.

Night Vale sandstorms aren’t usually this enchanting to watch. Cecil finds himself captivated by the way the sand sometimes sticks to the windows in strange glyphs and emblems. Perhaps it is trying to send him a message. Cecil wonders if things were going to start _happening_ in Night Vale now, or if he is just making it all up in his frustration.

The sand continues.

Carlos… continues.

Cecil sits and watches.

When at last it is over, Cecil swings the door open to find the same desert landscape.

Only…

Only it isn’t the same. He spots a hooded figure floating around on one of the sidewalks from the corner of his eye and quickly looks away. When he glances at the dog park, he is filled with a sudden urge to turn his head. When he does, he cannot remember what he was looking at. The library seems abandoned. Big Rico’s is bustling with activity. All of this seems like the Night Vale Cecil is used to, only _not._

The sun has gone completely down now, and the town is serene.

“Carlos!” Cecil shouts, slamming the door shut and bounding into the living room. “Carlos, you would not _believe_ what happened!”

He is too surprised about the sandstorm to do more than yell in surprise when he sees that Carlos is sitting up, his back straight, his feet flat on the ground—it is as if he had never had the spell of laziness. “Sorry about that, Cecil,” he says, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I’m not sure what got into me. It was like a sudden urge to just…,”

“Do nothing?” Cecil contributes.

Carlos nods.

Cecil sighs and doesn’t push the issue. “Never mind that now,” he says. “Did you see what it looks like outside?”

Carlos gets up from the ground and walks over to the window. He squints his eyes, as if trying to make out something imperceptible out on the horizon. Cecil wonders what Carlos is looking for. He wonders what has happened to Night Vale. He hopes it is something interesting.

“Why are there so many people at Big Rico’s?” is the first thing out of Carlos’s mouth. The beautiful scientist looks perplexed.

Cecil shrugs. There are usually only a few people who wish to eat pizza for dinner—Carlos and Cecil being two of them—but now, Big Rico’s Pizza is bustling with energy, people wandering in and out and laughter emanating from the windows. Cecil watches the emotions play out on Carlos’s face, curious as to what he thought of the entire situation.

Carlos is still standing, enraptured, at the window. “Is that a hooded figure on the sidewalk?” he asks, and then immediately clamps a hand over his mouth. His eyes are wide.

Before Cecil even has time to blink, Carlos is out the door.

Hesitantly, Cecil follows.

The door swings open, and when Cecil walks out, he is surrounded by an inexplicable feeling. Sort of like sunsets. Or aubergines. Cecil takes a deep breath, and hurries after Carlos’s rapid footsteps.

* * *

 

> _**Do not look up, dear citizen.** _
> 
> _**Do not look up.** _
> 
> _**If your eyes should stray where they are not meant to go, you will find a planet of awesome size, lit by no sun, hanging so close above you and so impossibly dark.** _
> 
> _**Do not look up.** _
> 
> _**They say that the sands of the desert are from far away. Perhaps, as far as the distant stars. They say many things. They say that the sands of the desert can carry you away, further than the edges of space—but yet as close as the looming dark planet.** _
> 
> _**Remember, do not look up, dear citizen, and beware of the sandstorms.** _
> 
>  

* * *

 

He found Carlos standing about five feet away from the dog park. The dog park was surrounded by menacing dark obsidian walls. There were no people around.

“The dog park…,” Carlos murmured. “I don’t think…,” he said, turning. When he saw Cecil standing there, his face brightened into a grin. “Cecil look! It’s the dog park! Or maybe you shouldn’t look. I don’t think we’re supposed to be here.”

Cecil smiled back hesitantly. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted a couple of men in dark sunglasses and what looked like smocks. They stood with their arms crossed. “Carlos,” he hissed, “I don’t think we’re supposed to be here either. Do you want to do somewhere else?”

“Sure,” Carlos easily said. “I want to go check the clocks. Something tells me they’ll be back to normal now.”

The first time Carlos had left voice mail messages on his phone, he had been talking about clocks. Cecil still remembered the way Carlos sounded hesitant, no, _concerned_ , when he relayed his findings. _The clocks all have_ gears _in them, Cecil,_ Carlos had said, his breathing panicked, _I have checked them all and there is not a single clock with grey goop on the inside! Cecil, how do the clocks_ work _here?_  Cecil hadn’t given him an answer. _Couldn’t_ give him an answer. For as long as he could remember, clocks ticked on gears and not strange grey goop.

Yet another mystery of Night Vale, it seemed.

“Where are you going to get a clock?” Cecil asked. “We can’t just break into a house and ask to see their clock. The clocks in our apartment might still be normal.”

“Normal,” Carlos repeated, chuckling slightly to himself. “Oh, Cecil, the clocks in Night Vale are anything _but_ normal.” He shrugged. “Still, you are right. Do you know anywhere we can acquire a clock?”

Cecil thought about it for a while. “The radio station?”

Carlos brightened. “Great idea! You do have analog clocks there, right?”

“I think so,” Cecil said, slowly. He wondered if the radio station would still be the same. (He hoped it would be.)

They walked in silence, Carlos still scrutinizing their surroundings. Cecil felt his head wandering around, swivelling this way and that to stare at the various inhabitants. Old Woman Josie was out later than usual, coming out of the supermarket with dark, tall, shapeless beings carrying her groceries. Cecil blinked. They had wings.

“Carlos,” he whispered, pointing at the figures. “Carlos, what are those?”

Carlos turned his head. “Nothing,” he quickly said. “What are you talking about, Cecil? It’s nothing.” His smile had taken on a strained edge.

Cecil wondered if they were angels or demons or some other kind of monsters. Surely they had to be something supernatural. Normal people did not stand more than seven feet tall with wings sprouting from their backs, after all. He shook his head. Cecil had always wanted something interesting to happen in Night Vale, but now that it had, he found himself wanting everything to go back to normal. It was all a bit overwhelming.

When Old Woman Josie waved as she walked by, Cecil resisted the urge to shrink in on himself as the strange creatures following her waved too.

Strangely enough, their waving was interspersed by heavenly light and a mass-like chorus in the background, but Cecil was too busy hoping he didn’t look too nervous to notice.

At least Carlos seemed to be enjoying himself.

When at last they arrived at the radio station, Cecil hung back slightly, hoping that Carlos would step in before him. If there was anything strange in his beloved work place, he didn’t think he could handle it right away.

They walked in, Carlos first, Cecil trailing afterwards. Carlos’s eyes were wide with wonder. Cecil’s were wide with worry.

Cecil blinked.

The bright red ‘ON AIR’ button was on.

Just who (or _what)_ was broadcasting?

“Look!” Carlos said, oblivious to the strange broadcast going on. He pointed to a clock hanging on the wall. “It’s a clock!”

Cecil followed Carlos’s finger. At least the clock was hanging in the same place as it usually was. He realized with a start that it was at the right time for his radio show to be on. And that the ON AIR sign was on. And that _he_ wasn’t broadcasting. What was going on here?

“Are there any interns here? Oh, the interns are always so nice at your radio station. We can ask one of them to get us the clock,” Carlos said excitedly. “Then we can run some experiments—hopefully they’ll let us open up the back or something.”

Cecil nodded absently. “Dana?” he called out, hoping she would be in today.

Dana was nowhere to be seen. Instead, a young man with wireframe glasses and a notepad popped out of the booth. “Intern Dana vanished in the dog park months ago,” he said, not noticing Cecil’s horrified expression, or even Cecil himself. It might or might not have been due to the fact that Cecil was hiding behind Carlos’s broad shoulders. “I’m Intern Leroy. Can I help you with anything?”

Carlos didn’t seem to realize anything was odd. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear about Intern Dana,” he said, “but yes, I do have a request. Would it be possible for me to take a look at one of the clocks here? Preferably an analog one? You see, I’m a scientist, and I was hoping to do a few studies on the state of clocks in this area.”

Intern Leroy’s eyes narrowed as he scrutinized the beaming Carlos and terrified Cecil. At last, a spark of recognition seemed to go off in his mind. “You’re a scientist,” he said slowly. “Then you must be Carlos.” Cecil wasn’t quite sure if he heard correctly, but Intern Leroy _might_ have muttered something about someone having beautiful hair, although that might have just been his imagination.

Carlos nodded.

“I’ve heard Cecil talk about you on the radio,” he said. “Sure, take the clock hanging over the recording booth.”

Cecil frowned. How did the strange intern (who he did _not_ remember hiring) know who he was? Sure, he did the radio show every night, but he didn’t actually think that too many people listened to it, being so _late_ at night as it was.

“Excuse me,” he said, popping out from behind Carlos, “but who exactly are you? I don’t recall ever hiring you as an intern.”

Intern Leroy’s eyes widened behind his glasses when he saw Cecil. “Cecil? But—you—aren’t you…,” he trailed off, gesturing towards the recording booth.

“What?” Cecil found himself saying.

Intern Leroy shook his head. He opened the door to the soundboard room overlooking the recording booth and gestured for them to step inside. Cecil complied, nervous and curious all the while.

Inside, they could hear everything going on in the recording studio.

Inside, they could _see_ everything going on in the recording studio.

Inside, Cecil could hear the radio show being broadcasted.

He wasn’t quite sure what he had expected. Just that it wasn’t _himself_ sitting and announcing the news. Cecil’s eyes widened. The Other Cecil looked exactly like him. They both had a face with all the normal features of a person, they were both neither tall or short, neither fat or skinny. They both even _sounded_ the same—Cecil recognized the voice coming out of the booth because it usually came out of his own mouth. And they were both _utterly_ identical.

The Other Cecil hadn’t noticed them yet. Intern Leroy sighed, looked between the two Cecils, and tapped on the window.

The Other Cecil looked up.

Funny, Cecil thought meeting an identical double of yourself warranted a big more than just a slight slackening of the jaw and a raised eyebrow.

 

**[Listeners, there is something very strange that has just happened. I will tell you more about it as I gather more information. Just know that there is someone, or, rather, two someones, who have just made their way to our radio station and I would like to go greet them.**

**But worry not, listeners, I shall not leave you on your lonesome. While you ponder the enigmatic nature and ambiguity of my message, I leave you with—the _weather_.]**

 

Since when was the weather announced like _that?_ Cecil wasn’t quite sure what to think anymore. Still, the words of the Other Cecil didn’t quite register, and it was only until his double (his utterly, _identical,_ double) stepped out of the booth that he realized the words were about _him._ Him. Cecil. Normal Cecil. Not the Other Cecil, who was evidently the voice of this Other Night Vale.

“Hello!” the Other Cecil said as soon as he stepped out. “Are you my double?”

Cecil bristled. “Well from _my_ perspective, _you_ are _my_ double.”

The Other Cecil laughed. “Very true, Cecil, very true.”

Cecil frowned. This was very surreal.

“And is that Carlos I spot with you?” the Other Cecil asked, grinning. “Perfect, beautiful, Carlos?”

Carlos waved slightly. “Hello,” he said, “it seems that the sandstorm wasn’t abnormal this time after all. Pleased to meet you, Cecil’s Double. I’m Carlos.”

The Other Cecil beamed. “Ah, so that’s why you are here. Funny, the last time we had a sandstorm, I was the only one _without_ a double. Well. I’m not sure about that, but I think I was.” The Other Cecil waved his hand. “No matter, no matter. What a happy day indeed that we finally meet!” He stopped suddenly and gave Cecil a narrow eyed stare. “Of course, you are not going to attempt to kill and replace me, are you?”

Cecil blanched. “Uhm. I won’t if you won’t,” he hesitantly said.

The Other Cecil nodded happily. “Wonderful! Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to the show. I’ll be back soon though, so don’t go anywhere.”

He slipped back into the booth, leaving just as abruptly as he came.

 

**[Welcome back, listeners. Or, rather, you should be welcoming me back as I have just returned with wonderful news for you. Some of you may have arrived at this quite logical conclusion after giving it a bit of thought. Others might not have caught on quite as quickly, and, well, who am I to judge? In case you do not know what is going on, I will tell you now that I was speaking with none other than my _double!_ **

**You do remember the sandstorm incident about a year ago, right? You know, the one that made doubles of everyone in Night Vale appear and savagely attack in an attempt to take our place in this treacherous world?**

**Well, just moments ago, I spoke with this miraculous double, and he informed me that he had no intention to kill or maim me! How wonderful!**

**Apparently, there was yet another sandstorm, but not in our humble little town, listeners. No, this sandstorm was in Night Vale, but not the Night Vale we know.**

**Listeners, my double experienced a sandstorm in _his_ Night Vale in _his_ world and it brought him here. To me. To _us._**

**This is quite fascinating. I wonder if our doubles were also from other Night Vales last year. If so, well, I suppose we’ll all have to live with the knowledge that those of us who fought and conquered may or may not have killed a being with another life, in another place, in another world. Or, perhaps, the creeping sensation that they have no recollection of being killed or doing the killing is now sinking in, along with the thought that you yourself, dear listener, could have had another life, in another place, in another world.**

**Sandstorms. I _know_ , huh?**

**Anyways, listeners, you would not believe who my dear double had with him! A double of Carlos! And his hair was just as beautiful and just as perfect as my Carlos. Oh is every Carlos in every world destined to be so perfect?**

**I certainly hope so.**

**I will leave you tonight with the grand uncertainty of your place in this world. Know that at any moment, another sandstorm could strike our dear Night Vale and send some of us spiralling into worlds unknown. Know that it is, perhaps, possible to forget everything you knew about this life and start anew in some other town with the same name.**

**Perhaps life is like this. Uncertain. Unknowable. Unreachable except through the fine granules of sand, carrying us away as they buffet us with the strong wind. Unfathomable until you see the sunrise through the dusty clouds and finally see that you are not as alone as you thought.**

**That there is someone like you— _exactly_ like you—out there. Somewhere. Waiting. To talk to you. Or to murder you. I do not know. Perhaps we will never find out. Or, perhaps, we will find out _very_ soon. **

**As you let the soothing desert breeze wash over you, most likely—but not certainly—bereft of more sand and more storms, I hope you remain thankful that you have not yet been whisked off to another world.**

**After all, we all know it is inevitable.**

**Until then, I will say, as always: Goodnight, Night Vale, goodnight.]**

Cecil opened his mouth. Then closed it again when he realized he had nothing to say about that.

Carlos shrugged and went back to the clock. He took a screwdriver and carefully pried it open. Inside, there were no gears or batteries or anything that clocks needed to function. Instead, there was a dull grey lump. It seemed to be growing hair. When Carlos propped it with the screwdriver, it twitched. Cecil watched, fascinated.

“This is amazing,” Carlos said. “It’s as if everything in Night Vale has suddenly returned to normal. Or, that we’ve been transported into a normal Night Vale from the sandstorm. I have to run more tests. Intern Leroy!”

“Yes?”

“Is there another Carlos? Do I have a double too?”

Intern Leroy pushed his glasses up. “Well I would assume so, if you came from the same place as Cecil’s double.”

Cecil bit back the retort that the Other Cecil was the double, not him, and instead listened to the conversation. Carlos sounded excited. Carlos was always excited when it came to science. (Carlos was always adorable when he was excited about science.) “Great, that means the other Carlos will have a lab I can work with. Oh, and are the Other Carlos and the Other Cecil dating too?”

Cecil felt a blush spread over his cheekbones and tried to stop his entire face from flaming up. Intern Leroy nodded.

“Perfect,” Carlos murmured. “That means we can get the Other Cecil to take up to their apartment after the show’s over, and I can talk to the Other Carlos about using his lab. Absolutely perfect.”

Cecil wondered when the last time Carlos was this excited was. Certainly it was a change from the way he had lazed about the entire day leading up to this. He tried to tell himself the sting in his chest wasn’t because he was jealous of this normal Night Vale. Clearly it was much more interesting to Carlos than their boring little town.

Night Vale wasn’t supposed to have angels or demons or dog parks that swallowed up Cecil’s best interns or clocks that oozed grey stuff instead of running on gears.

Night Vale… that wasn’t Night Vale.

Cecil bit his lip and tried not to say anything. Carlos was excited about science. Focus on that for now, Cecil, and forget the strange things happening. You’ll be home soon.

The Other Cecil stepped back out of the booth, clasping his hands together. “I am _so_ excited to talk to you. What is Night Vale—you know, _your_ Night Vale like?” There was a large and excited grin on his face.

“Well,” Cecil started, but realized that he didn’t quite know where to start.

He had always thought Night Vale was just a friendly little town in the desert. Nothing too interesting.

That was before Carlos had showed up, though.

_(When the scientist first shows up driving a strange van full of strange beeping equipment, Cecil is blown away. When the scientist steps out of the van and the desert breeze tousles his beautiful full head of perfect hair and he introduces himself, Cecil falls in love instantly._

_Carlos._

_Even his name feels beautiful, tucked in Cecil’s mouth so delicately. Cecil loves the way his tongue curls around the syllables. Carlos. Caaaaaaaaaarloos._

_Cecil falls in love over and over again._

_When Carlos the beautiful and perfect scientist first tells Cecil of the wonders and strangeness beyond Night Vale, Cecil does not believe him at first. It is simply not possible. Night Vale cannot be the only normal place in the world because if Night Vale were not the only normal place and normal isn’t what Cecil once thought it was and—_

_Night Vale seemed to be different, but different in a boring way._

_When Cecil was a child he often dreamed about being a radio host and being able to broadcast the most interesting news all day to eager listeners. He dreamed of five headed dragons and invisible women and when he grew up his imagination hadn’t quite left him. When Carlos first tells him it is not quite imagination and more like reality, Cecil doesn’t want to believe him._

_Night Vale is beautiful, Night Vale is perfect, Night Vale is home._

_And why was home so… so dull? So utterly uninteresting?_

_Every time Carlos calls Cecil with his honey voice and his theories, Cecil feels a strange pressure on his chest. He wants to shrink away every time Carlos calls Night Vale the most scientifically interesting town in North America._

_Cecil falls in love every day when Carlos tells him of the world beyond, and slowly, ever so slowly, he begins to dream of it.)_

Night Vale was boring in comparison.

This Night Vale seemed almost normal.

“Well, I often say that Night Vale is the most scientifically interesting town in all of North America,” Carlos began, and Cecil felt the strange tightening in his chest again.

The Other Cecil’s eyes bugged out wide. “That’s amazing! _My_ Carlos says that too!”

Cecil wanted to comment that the way _he_ says ‘my Carlos’ is the exact same way the Other Cecil says it, but did not. The Other Cecil was already moving on, chattering rapidly about _his_ Carlos.

Carlos grinned. “Speaking of which, could you please drive us to the other Carlos’s lab? I wanted to run some tests on this clock here.” He held up the clock, showing the Other Cecil the grey goop contained inside.

“ _My_ Carlos did experiments on the clocks too!” the Other Cecil says, still grinning. “He claimed that clocks ran on gears or something, and I told him that clocks definitely were always running on grey goop and sometimes a little bit of hair if you’re lucky, but he wouldn’t listen and insist on running tests. Carlos is very passionate about science.”

Carlos ( _Cecil’s_ Carlos) had his brows furrowed in thought. “That’s strange. Where I’m from, clocks _do_ always run on grey goop. I found a few hairs once though. But in Cecil’s Night Vale, I’ve only ever found clocks with gears inside! Can you imagine? It’s _so_ strange.”

The Other Cecil’s eyes were wide again. “You mean to say that the other Night Vale is that different? That…,” he trailed off, casting a glance at Cecil.

Cecil still hadn’t said much. “Odd?” he asked, filling in the word he _knew_ the Other Cecil was dying to say. He would’ve said it didn’t hurt to have his beloved Night Vale called odd (not just odd. Odd and _boring_ ) but that would’ve been lying. Cecil tried not to lie. After all, journalism is rooted in the truth.

The Other Cecil’s grin suddenly turned sheepish as he nodded.

“Shall we be off then? I’d love to compare notes with your Carlos,” Carlos said.

The Other Cecil nodded, probably eager for the change in topic. “Great! My car’s just downstairs, we can go now!”

Cecil trailed after, listening to Carlos and the Other Cecil chatter. Apparently all the supposed odd and boring things about his Night Vale were not quite so odd in this Night Vale. This Night Vale seemed so much like the outside world that Carlos had always told him about. Cecil wasn’t quite sure what frightened him more—the five headed dragon or the supposed Vague Yet Menacing Government Agency.

What kind of a person was this Other Cecil, to live in a place like this?

They exited the building. The Other Cecil’s car looked exactly like Cecil’s as well. Cecil hoped it wouldn’t grow fangs or fur or anything like that.

Turns out, all that happened was a strange moaning noise when the Other Cecil started the engine, but that was still mostly alright. Mostly.  

They drove in silence, Carlos staring out the window, only cringing back occasionally when they passed the dog park or a hooded figure, and, curiously, the library.

The drive to the lab wasn’t long, and Cecil was not surprised to find that it was right where it usually was—right next to Big Rico’s. The only difference being that Big Rico’s was buzzing with energy.

Carlos’s eyes suddenly lit in what looked like understanding. There was an audible _ding_ as Cecil _swore_ a light bulb began floating next to his head. The Other Cecil turned expectantly, also looking at the light bulb. “Is Big Rico’s the state mandated pizza shop here?” Carlos asked.

The Other Cecil nodded eagerly. “Indeed! Is it not the state mandated pizza shop in your Night Vale?”

Carlos grimaced. “There _is_ no state mandated pizza shop in our Night Vale.”

Cecil furrowed his brows in confusion. He had never heard of the state mandating pizza shops of all things. Meanwhile, the Other Cecil’s eyebrows shot up in horror. “Where do the citizens obtain their mandatory weekly pizza then?” he gasped.

 _Mandatory_ weekly pizza? _Weekly_ pizza? Cecil desperately hoped they could go home, where things made sense, soon.

Carlo was still grimacing. “There is no mandatory weekly pizza.”

The Other Cecil still looked horrified.

Cecil held back the desire to retort. Why did there have to be mandatory weekly pizza? What was so wonderful about _mandatory_ pizza? Cecil liked his pizza voluntary, thank you very much, and mandatory pizza along with a state mandated pizza shop sounded like a stupid idea anyways.

“Let’s just go upstairs,” Cecil said, quite loudly. “I’m sure the Other Carlos would love to meet us.”

The Other Cecil nodded slightly, his face returning to normal. “Yes, yes, that seems to be a good idea.” Carlos nodded as well.

Then they walked pass, Cecil frowned to hear the Other Cecil mutter ‘no mandatory weekly pizza?’ again in that same incredulous voice, and Carlos nodding solemnly.

He wasn’t jealous.

Of course not.

He was _not_ jealous of this strange connection the Other Cecil had with _his_ Carlos. The Other Cecil had to have his _own_ Carlos too, right? He was _not_ jealous of the fact that the Other Cecil didn’t seem to know his boundaries. Honestly, just because Carlos happened to look absolutely identical to the Other Cecil’s own boyfriend didn’t mean that the _Other_ Cecil had the liberty to pat Carlos on the arm without even realizing it! The nerve of some people.

They walked, Cecil huffing in silent anger and jealousy.

When they got to the lab, they found the Other Carlos hunched over some instrument or another. It was beeping, like all of Carlos’s instruments did. Cecil watched how the Other Carlos looked exactly the same as his Carlos, down to the distinguished touches of silver at his temple. The Other Carlos even placed his pen behind his left ear at almost the same angle as Cecil’s Carlos, even touched it the same way after adjusting his instrument.

The Other Cecil cleared his throat.

“Cecil!” the Other Carlos called as he looked up from the instrument. “Oh, you’re home already, I’m sorry I didn’t…,” he trailed off as his eyes swept over _Cecil_ and Cecil’s Carlos.

The Other Carlos’s mouth dropped open. “Wh-what?” he stuttered.

The Other Cecil shrugged. “A sandstorm brought them here, supposedly. They come from a different Night Vale. A _very_ different Night Vale. It’s all very exciting, isn’t it?”

The Other Carlos slowly nodded. “Yes. Yes, I suppose it is…”

Carlos stepped forward at this point and stuck out his hand. “Hello. You must be my double. Or I yours, I suppose. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

The Other Carlos hesitantly took Carlos’s hand and shook.

Cecil watched them, both beautiful, both handsome, both shaking hands.

So _perfect._

So _beautiful._

The Other Cecil grinned wryly after a while. “You get something new in Night Vale every day,” he said, shaking his head. He sighed happily, seeming watching the two Carlos’s as closely as Cecil himself was.

Cecil jerked back, shaking his head.  “Is this strange to you?” he asked, addressing his question to the Other Carlos, wondering if perhaps one person in this town would understand the weirdness he had been receiving all day.

It would, in some ways, make sense. Cecil always lived in Night Vale, but Carlos was always a relatively new addition to their lovely town. And Night Vale always seemed to be… different. Special. If this Night Vale were like the outside world back in _their_ world, well, it would be perfectly logical that the outside world in this world would be like their Night Vale. Right?

The Other Carlos shrugged. “There’s always something strange in Night Vale. I suppose you wouldn’t understand.”

“No, no,” Cecil said, eyes wide, “I completely understand. I am completely overwhelmed. Your Night Vale is a very strange place for me.”

The Other Carlos turned to stare at Cecil. “You mean the Night Vale in your world isn’t like this?”

“Not at all!”

“You mean your Night Vale is… normal.”

Cecil nodded eagerly, his heart singing in joy at the understanding the Other Carlos seemed to have of his situation. (His heart was, literally, emanating some sort of strange operatic sound.) “Yes, it’s completely normal, well, for me, and there are no state mandated pizza shops or any clocks that ooze grey stuff instead of working on normal gear or hooded figures that I’m apparently not supposed to look at for very long and would somebody _please_ tell me what is going on with the dog park? I have no idea what is going on at all around here and I just want to go _home._ Honestly, Night Vale is _not_ like this, it should _not_ be this way!”

It had all come out quite abruptly.

As soon as he noticed the long monologue full of complaints he had just blurted out, Cecil felt his face heating up with shame. He rubbed at his hair, pushing his glasses up when they started to slide down, and stare resolutely at the ground.

There was silence.

“I-I’m sorry about that outburst,” Cecil muttered. “It was very unprofessional of me. I’m sure this Night Vale is a perfectly wonderful place. I’m just _so_ confused. And tired.”

Carlos, _his_ Carlos, was staring at him with a mixture of concern and frustration in his gaze. Cecil wished he could have an easier time with accepting the oddities of Night Vale, if only so that Carlos would feel better about the entire situation. Carlos had been telling him about the Outside World for months now, and Cecil had always responded in awe. He supposed it was quite shocking to hear that… that _rant_ coming from him for Carlos.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered again, looking away this time.

The Other Carlos spoke first, and Cecil quashed the small part of him that felt utterly disappointed when his Carlos didn’t speak up first. “Night Vale takes some getting used to,” he said, his voice strangely gentle. Cecil closed his eyes and thought of how his Carlos sounded the same way when it was dark and they were alone. “You’ll get it eventually.”

Cecil hoped he would be home by then, before there could be any getting used to of any sort.

He felt a hand on the small of his back, and another on his shoulder. When he opened his eyes, he saw that it was the Other Carlos, distinguishable from his Carlos only by the feel of it (identical or not, Cecil would always know what it felt like to have _his_ Carlos, a hand on his back, so gentle, so sweet, so _Carlos_. This was not it), guiding him towards the couch stashed in one corner of the otherwise pristine lab.

Cecil sank down and buried his face in his hands.

“He just need a little bit of time,” the Other Carlos called, walking back towards the Other Cecil and Cecil’s Carlos.

Cecil’s Carlos still hadn’t said a word. Cecil fought to keep the whimper from escaping from his chest, because he had hoped that Carlos would come and tell him it’s alright by now and that he would be doing _science_ to help Cecil get home. To help _them_ get home.

For the first time since they had arrived, Cecil was filled with the terrifying possibility that Carlos would find this Night Vale far more interesting than the one they had left behind.

What if Carlos wanted to _stay?_

In the back of his mind, Cecil registered his Carlos, the Other Carlos, and the other Cecil talking about clocks or interns or ties or something of the such. He wasn’t quite sure what it was, only that it was strange. He knew they were avoiding conversation about _him._

Another twinge of jealousy and confusion and doubt in his chest—Cecil was used to the painful snaps of his heartstrings by now.

The Other Carlos had come to Night Vale over a year ago. _It takes some getting used to,_ he had said. Of course, the Other Carlos himself had definitely gotten used to it himself already. Cecil was the only one—the _only_ one—to feel completely and utterly left out. What was that that Carlos had first said? That Night Vale was the single more scientifically interesting community in all of North America?

Well.

That was certainly true of _this_ Night Vale.

Cecil frowned, and then he stood.

Nobody noticed.

His frown deepened. “I’m going out for a walk!” he loudly announced. “And before any of you attempt to follow me, know that I am a grown adult and I can take care of myself.”

Carlos was halfway out of his chair already, hand poised to reach out to him. Cecil would have felt more flattered if he hadn’t felt so angry and confused then. “Carlos,” he said, and Carlos froze as soon as he heard Cecil say his name in _that_ tone. It wasn’t angry, not quite. But it had a surprising amount of grit to it, almost as if he were about to talk about _Steeve Carsberg_ for some impossible reason. “Carlos.”

Carlos’s hand was still outstretched.

“Please don’t follow me,” Cecil said, gentler this time.

He didn’t wait for a response.

The door slammed behind him as he left the lab.

* * *

 

Outside, the sun was shining, even though Cecil didn’t remember an entire night passing while they were inside. He growled. Another oddity. When would it _end?_

He wouldn’t go to the dog park, no, that was far too menacing for his tastes. But Cecil needed to go somewhere supposedly strange, needed to see it all for himself. He didn’t think he’d believe half the things he’d been told about this Night Vale otherwise.

Not the dog park, and the hooded figures were impossible to find in this bright sunshine, and Cecil thought that monsters or angels or whatever were far too difficult to approach. Big Rico’s was out, because as strange as government mandated pizza was, he didn’t think he’d be able to notice much difference due to being served and given pizza much like normal and besides, it could’ve all been a gimmick anyways.

He still hadn’t learnt of the rest of Night Vale’s strangeness yet.

Cecil narrowed his eyes and turned on the next street.

It was decided.

Cecil was going to go to the library.

Surely it couldn’t be _that_ bad, could it?

* * *

 

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh! Get away!”

He found himself, inevitably, eating his words.

Normally he wouldn’t mind it, being a professional who understood when he just happened to get the facts wrong, but normally Cecil eating his words did not involve a situation in which he might possibly _actually be eaten._

The librarians were, to simply put it, _terrifying._

Cecil couldn’t stare at them too long without feeling like he was being slowly suffocated. Meanwhile, the sharp sensation of receiving a hundred paper cuts all at once ran along the sides of his arms. Cecil winced, turned his head, and started running. In his hand he was holding a copy of The Stranger. Or the Outsider. His French was getting rusty.

It had been the first book he had picked up.

He growled, wondering if it was some sort of message for him. A big red sign that blared ‘YOU DO NOT BELONG IN NIGHT VALE’ in his face. It certainly felt like it. And, given what he had seen from this Night Vale so far, it wouldn’t even be anything out of the ordinary for a random book picked up at the local library to be a mysterious omen of the future or a prophecy of some sort.

Cecil had read the book in University, and while he knew it was not really about outsiders of his kind in towns like Night Vale, he still couldn’t help but feel condemned and trapped.

The librarian following his rapid footsteps with their floating cardigans and rasping breath didn’t quite help.

When at last he came to a corner of the library, Cecil found himself, well, _cornered._

The librarians had caught up.

Strangely enough, when they found him, cowering behind a bookshelf, the thin book still clutched in his white knuckled grip, they didn’t move in for the kill immediately. Instead, one of them gestured to the small book. Cecil blinked.

“What? Do you want to read this? Er, I can’t quite since it’s in the original French but I do remember a bit of the story. I think.”

The librarian’s tilted their garish grey heads all at once.

Cecil swallowed. “Well it’s about a man. Who… who doesn’t really belong. He’s not really the same as everyone all around him and he doesn’t really _care_ either. Then he kills another man I think and goes to prison. It’s not a horribly exciting book. The most important part is that at the end, he comes to accept his fate as different and reconciles himself with the indifference of the world.” Cecil paused, noticing the librarians all emitting some sort of low growling sound. He sighed and tried to remember what else he knew about the novel. University had been a long time ago. “Which is funny because it applies to us all.

“Me most of all, I’d say, seeing as I am a literal outsider here.” As soon as Cecil stopped talking about the book, the librarians started to hiss again. His eyes widened. “And then he dies at the end! The man is executed! The book is about existentialism and how the world really doesn’t care about you and that you should just accept this because you will be ultimately happier!”

The librarians made that low growling sound again. If Cecil tilted his head it might’ve sounded a bit like purring. Almost like a cat.

An epiphany occurred. Cecil knew this for sure by the way a physical light bulb popped up beside his head.

He grabbed another book from the book shelf. Opening to a random page, Cecil began to _read_.

* * *

 

Three books later, Carlos burst into the library. He was brandishing some sort of metallic rod with a couple of spikes at the end. When the Other Cecil and the Other Carlos showed up holding similar odd weapons, Cecil realized they had come to fight the librarians.

Too bad. He hadn’t quite gotten through chapter four of The Fault in Our Stars yet.

The librarians immediately began hissing again when they caught sight of the cavalry. Their nostrils flared, and Cecil brought an arm around to shield the various books piled around them from the whipping tentacles that writhed out of their musty old cardigans. He sighed, wondering when Carlos would learn to stop overreacting already.

He continued to read, hoping the sound of his voice would triumph over the weaponry that the librarians had clearly noticed.

Carlos gave him a strange and incredulous look, the Other Cecil and Other Carlos trailing behind with confusion etched on their faces.

Cecil continued to read. The librarians purred.

When at last he finished the chapter, he put the book down. The cover snapped shut and the librarians immediately turned to all stare at the small blue book together. They hissed in unison, surrounding Cecil and flapping their fins against their wireframe glasses.

Cecil raised an eyebrow. “It’s alright. I’ll be back tomorrow. Or, if I’m not, I’ll send somebody to come here and read to you, alright?”

The librarians ceased their hissing.

Cecil smiled. “Can I go now?”

The circle of librarians parted, leaving just enough space for Cecil to pass through. He strode forward, trying to ignore the stench emanating from the librarians’ gaping maws and keeping a smile on his face.

Once he reached where Carlos and their doubles where standing, Cecil allowed himself to wrinkle his nose. “Do the librarians never get access to toothbrushes or something?” he asked, scratching at the back of his head. “It’s either that or they’ve all come down with a bad case of halitosis.”

Carlos was still giving him that incredulous and concerned look. “Cecil,” he started, putting down his strange spiked rod, “what _was_ that?”

“What?”

The Other Cecil spoke up. “How did you just survive an encounter with the librarians? No newcomer _ever_ survives an encounter with the librarians.”

“Oh.” Well that was certainly news. “I just assumed that they were supposed to be like that,” Cecil muttered. “Everything’s upside down in Night Vale. Figures the librarians would be too. So I read, because librarians obviously always like to read and these ones probably can’t even touch the books without destroying them. You really should do something about that. Maybe they’ll stop killing people then.”

The Other Carlos’s eyes were wide. “I never even thought of that possibility,” he said in wonder. “Librarians _are_ supposed to read. Cecil, you’re a genius!”

Cecil felt a blush spreading across his cheeks. Even though this was the _Other_ Carlos, it was still _a_ Carlos, and hearing a compliment from Carlos was always thrilling. “Thanks,” he muttered, although he wasn’t quite sure what he had done. Librarians read books. It was such a rudimentary fact. It wasn’t as if he had come up with anything revolutionary like figure out the librarians’ weakness and stab one through the heart or something.

Silly Cecil. Always the peacemaker, it seemed. Even _more_ unsuitable for this strange Night Vale where everyone was ready to fight at any slightest change.

His Carlos was still staring at him in concern. Perhaps it was the recent fight for his life against rabid librarians, or just the soothing break from all the crazy he encountered thus far, but Cecil suddenly realized he had been a real _jerk_ to Carlos. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I guess I overreacted and probably shouldn’t have left and also probably shouldn’t have yelled at you when you were trying to help me.”

Carlos blinked. The strange spiked weapon was still held loosely in his hand.

Cecil looked away, hoping he hadn’t just made the most tremendous mistake of his life. What if Carlos thought this Night Vale was far more interesting? What if Carlos thought this Night Vale was more worth it than Cecil was—especially after that horrid display he had put up?

_Dammit._

Suddenly, Cecil heard a clatter.

He looked up just in time to see Carlos’s strange spiked weapon drop to the ground before he was enveloped in a hug.

Mmm, he could stay like this forever. Carlos’s arms were warm and strong and Cecil felt almost as if he was at home again.

“You don’t have to apologize to me,” Carlos murmured in Cecil’s ear. “I was a bit overwhelmed when I move to _our_ Night Vale too. Don’t worry, I understand.”

Cecil frowned. “But our Night Vale isn’t… isn’t _deadly_ ,” he hissed, still thinking of the librarians and their pointed teeth and rotting skin and guttural snaps. Or, perhaps, he was thinking of the looming shape of the tall black obsidian walls around the dog park. Or the hooded figures. Or—

“Deadly or not, it takes some time getting used to,” Carlos said, interrupting Cecil’s thoughts. “Oh, Cecil, you don’t understand how brave you’ve been.”

When Cecil still looked confused, Carlos sighed and released him. Immediately, Cecil missed the warmth of Carlos’s embrace. He stood, pouting slightly, while Carlos gestured towards the Other Carlos and Other Cecil.

“Cecil doesn’t think he’s brave,” Carlos announced.

The Other Cecil’s eyes widened. “But he faced the _librarians!_ And he didn’t even die a gruesome death.”

The Other Carlos nodded in silent agreement.

“The librarians can kill you in 57 different ways,” the Other Cecil solemnly stated. “We learned what 43 of them were in boy scouts. They didn’t tell us the rest because they are unknowable. Although I have heard that the Eternal Scouts finally get to learn the secrets of the library before they’re preserved. I could recite the ones that we had learned for you if you’d like. There’s ripping out your ribs one by one, and slowly peeling back your soul to reveal the gaping blackness and lack of a _anything_ beneath until you finally succumb to the deepest horrors of the universe, and—“

“Thank you,” the Other Carlos cut in, “Cecil, I’m sure you can tell us later.” There was a strained smile on the Other Carlos’s face.

Cecil internally whimpered, wondering just how the Other Cecil and Carlos survived in a place such as this. “Can we just go back to the lab now?” he asked hesitantly.

Carlos frowned, as if he wanted to say something further, but the Other Carlos brightened at that and nodded eagerly. “Yes, yes, that’s a great idea. My instruments are probably still running.”

“Plus the librarians are starting to get restless again,” the Other Cecil pointed out, gesturing towards the circle of demonic beings somehow called librarians.

All four of them seemed to suddenly realize this fact all at once, and reached a simultaneously decision to slowly creep out of the library, breath held so as to not disturb the librarians.

Once he was breathing the fresh but moist air outside again, Cecil let his shoulders slump. He could tell already that his hands were shaking. No matter how much he enjoyed reading—it was impossible to spend even five minutes with those dreadful librarians without breaking down into some sort of panic attack. Cecil tried to still his breathing and paced himself a little bit behind the group so as to not cause too much trouble.

His Carlos was chattering about some sort of new scientific theory or another, but didn’t seem all that into it anymore. He kept throwing careful glances back at Cecil, and Cecil would return with a soft little smile that was all he could manage at the moment.

Cecil wanted to go home. He desperately, desperately wanted to go home.

They seemed to have been walking for ages. The sun seemed to be setting far faster than Cecil had thought it would, and he could’ve sworn there were no high rise apartments the last time he had walked towards the library.

Night Vale made his head hurt.

Cecil _really_ wanted to go home.

When at last they reached Big Rico’s and Carlos’s lab next door, Cecil wanted to collapse. His throat was parched and sweat beaded on his forehead. Frustratingly, the Other Cecil and Carlos didn’t seem fazed. Only the Other Carlos was looking a bit winded, but Cecil still felt far worse and far less presentable.

Good manners be damned, the couch inside was soft and a merciful resting point.

It wasn’t until he heard dead silence in the room—aside from all the beeps and whirs coming from the Other Carlos’s various instruments—that he realized there was probably something wrong. Again.

“What is it _now_?” he asked, unable to hide the irritation in his voice.

“Uhm,” the Other Cecil spoke up. “I believe there is a swirling, glowing vortex that has opened up in Carlos’s room. And also it’s right next to you.”

Cecil started. Indeed, there was a yellow blur next to where he was sprawled out on the couch.

The Other Carlos hesitantly approached his array of instruments, grabbing one that hadn’t been on before. He flipped a switch, and suddenly, a loud shrieking sound filled the air. It sounded vaguely like a mixture between a woman seeing a cockroach in her kitchen and the cry of a red hawk. Cecil cringed back.

As soon as the Other Carlos brought the instrument closer to the yellow blur, the shrieks grew louder and more frequent.

The Other Carlos flipped the switch back down, instantly silencing the awful shrieking noises.

There was sweet, blessed silence for a moment.

“What was that?” Carlos murmured, looking at the Other Carlos in bewilderment.

The Other Carlos placed the instrument back on the table. “That was my inter-dimensional portal detector,” he said. “Don’t you have one too?”

“Ah,” Carlos said, shaking his head, “I use the bloodstone circle to determine inter-dimension portals. It’s the most scientific method we know back home.”

The Other Carlos gave Cecil’s Carlos a strange look, as if he wanted to say something, before shaking his head.

“So,” Cecil spoke up, turning to scrutinize the yellow blur, “where does this portal go to?”

“Another dimension,” the Other Cecil unhelpfully supplied.

The Other Carlos smiled slightly and raised an eyebrow. “Well, yes, of course. It _is_ an inter-dimension portal after all.”

“The question is…which dimension?” Carlos murmured.

Cecil rolled his eyes and spoke the words they were all afraid to say. “Well does it go to _our_ dimension?”

Everyone turned to the Other Carlos. He usually had most of the answers. The Other Carlos quailed slightly under their combined gazes. “Well, I’d say that that’s a very high possibility, yes.”

Cecil frowned. “But…?”

“But I’m not certain. I’m never certain of these things in Night Vale.” The second half of his statement seemed to be tacked on as much of an afterthought.

“As we learned in boy scouts,” the Other Cecil declared, “ ‘there is future’.” He paused. “I will amend that to ‘there is no future if you do not go onward’ though.”

Carlos hesitated. “There are so many risks with just stepping through. What if we land in a completely different dimension? There are so many possibilities. We could accidentally end up in a world full of donkeys. Or a world where Hitler won WWII and… and is hosting your radio show or something! Or a world where intelligent life never even developed on Earth! Or a world where everyone is obsessed with bagels—I don’t know. The point is, we can’t afford to _not_ know.”

On some level, Cecil recognized that everything Carlos was saying was absolutely true. A world where everyone was obsessed with bagels sounded _awful._ (Cecil had never been able to stand bagels. Or cream cheese.) But… but some part of him thought that maybe, just maybe, Carlos liked this abnormal normal Night Vale just a bit too much and wanted to stay. Maybe.

He cleared his throat.

Everyone snapped out of their ruminations to stare at him.

“Well I think I’d like to go,” Cecil quietly murmured, staring straight at Carlos.

In that moment, it was as if everyone else and everything else in the room simply fell away. (Or, perhaps, everyone else and everything else in the room _literally_ fell away—Cecil wasn’t quite sure.) In any case, it was only him, and Carlos.

They looked each other in the eye.

“Carlos if I ask you a question, will you tell me the truth?” Cecil asked.

Carlos nodded without hesitation. “Of course.”

Cecil paused. Hesitated. Then decided that there _was_ no future if he didn’t go onward. “Do you want to stay here?”

It must not have been a question Carlos expected, because Cecil could see the way his warm brown eyes widened. “What?”

“Do you want to stay here? In this Night Vale?”

Carlos didn’t answer for a very long time. Cecil grew worried. “I mean, if you want to stay, Cecil, that would be wonderful,” Carlos started out. “To be able to study the effects of being in a different dimension from ours, and also to live relative normalcy again—it would all be very nice.”

Cecil’s heart sank further and further at each of Carlos’s words, and it must’ve shown on his face because Carlos kept talking.

“But I can tell that you really don’t want to stay, Cecil.” Carlos hesitated then, and bit his lip. “And I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

Cecil blinked. “You aren’t going to leave me behind?” he blurted without thinking.

Carlos gaped. “No!” he exclaimed. “When did you get that idea? I hadn’t even thought about that possibility, and it’s my job to consider all the possibilities.”

“But you…,” Cecil trailed off. Sure, Carlos had seemed really interested, but maybe it had simply been scientific curiosity after all?

“But I what, Cecil?” Carlos asked. “Cecil, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Why would I leave you behind?” He sighed, before continuing, “Cecil, I love our Night Vale. It is, and will always be, the most scientifically interesting town in all of North America. I love being able to stroll around and perform tests on the trees and wonder why they’re not growing spikes. I love being narrated about in present tense like back home. I love being with _you_ and listening to you declare your love for me on public radio for the entire town to hear. I love _you,_ Cecil.”

Cecil’s mouth dropped open. Carlos had not said that before. “You… you what?”

A short laugh burst from Carlos’s lips. “I _love_ you, Cecil, and I’m sorry I never said that before. I really do mean it though. I love you and Night Vale is intrinsically a part of you so I can’t not love that as well.”

“I love you too!” Cecil cried joyously. Then he remembered their conversation. “But… but are you sure you won’t stay without me?”

Carlos sighed again in exasperation. “ _Yes,_ Cecil, I’m sure. I’d live an eternity with you in our Night Vale in present tense rather than spend another day here in past tense, in such a boringly _normal_ Night Vale.” He winked.

Cecil’s grin stretched so wide, the corners of his eyes crinkled. Carlos would never lie to him.

In that moment, everyone else and everything else slowly faded back into the room with them.

“It’s decided,” Carlos announced. “We’ll go through the portal.”

The Other Carlos raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

Cecil nodded firmly. “Yes. Yes we are.”

The Other Cecil’s smile was warm. “Well in that case, we shall have to bid you both a fond farewell.” He stood and clasped Cecil’s hand in a shake. “Journey well.”

“Thank you,” Cecil said, and was almost surprised to find sincerity in his voice. He turned towards the Other Cecil and finally regarded him as an equal. Their eyes locked, and something passed in that instant that he thought would never happen again. Cecil seemed to be thinking something vaguely similar. “Thank you so much.”

Cecil looked up to see Carlos and Carlos also exchanging farewells. 

And then goodbyes were said and done, and Cecil grabbed tightly onto Carlos’s hand, and the yellow blur was upon them as they walked through the vortex.

 

**[Listeners, I have returned from a place so strange and mysterious that I dare not repeat it here. No doubt you will all recognize my words as fantasies. I am still not certain if it was a dream or something else, but I can only remember the awesome purple skies of this world I visited.**

**It was a terrible world, in this maybe-dream I had, listeners. Terrible, but beautiful as well.**

**I am not sure I have anything else to say on the matter.**

**I have realized the wonders of our own hopefully-not-dream-world, dear listeners, and now I only ask you to do the same. To reach deep within yourselves and recall that which you hold most dear to your heart.**

**Go to sleep tonight with your loved ones in your dreams, listeners.**

**And until the next day, I will say: Goodnight, Night Vale, goodnight.]**

Cecil and Carlos lie on the bed together, fingers intertwined. Cecil sighs softly, and happily embraces the return to a present state as evidenced by their narrative tense.

Carlos turns and wraps his strong and warm arms around Cecil’s shoulders.

In this moment, they are perfectly content.

(The next day, Carlos will wake to find Cecil still in bed, eyes shut tight, entire body relaxed underneath the covers.

He will not wake for the entire day.

Carlos smiles fondly, lets Cecil sleep after what must be a strange and stressful day, and secretly dubs the day after their inter-dimensional travels Cecil’s Lazy Day.)


End file.
